


It Runs Bone Deep

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate 3b ending, Evil Stiles, Friends doing anything for each other, Hurt Scott, M/M, Nogitsune, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sciles, Violence, canon divergant, dark skittles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to protect Beacon Hills from the violent chaos of the Nogitsune and keep his best friend from being hunted by the Oni, Scott is willing to do anything, even if it means sacrificing himself. There has to be a way to bring Stiles back somehow, but Scott's not sure he'll find it before he breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Runs Bone Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was created as part of the Sciles Reversebang and is inspired by [THIS work](http://data.tumblr.com/35cb8c92d7cf2b0f5e6305cdc52cafae/tumblr_n8i9q0erFN1tuy6wuo1_1280.png) by gemsicle.tumblr.com

 

 

The bed shifted slightly under Scott’s weight, unfamiliar and uncomfortable, the scent of stale unwashed bodies clinging to the fabric no matter how many times the motel had washed them. The whole room reeked of old cigarette smoke and years of humanity ground down into the carpet. He stared dead-eyed up at the ceiling and tried not to think, focusing on the way his senses overwhelmed him and chased away the pesky thoughts that threatened to rise up and strangle him.

It had been three weeks moving from town to town, never staying in the same place for more than a day or two. Really, only three weeks? It felt like a lifetime, he was years older than when he’d started. Every day the wounds grew wider, open and unhealing, covered by unbroken skin that never hinted at the broken ragged mess beneath. Pain thrummed through him with every beat of his heart, etched so deeply into his bones that they felt brittle. He was exhausted, but it hurt too much to sleep as he bore the burden silently.

 _He had asked for this. It was his choice._ He reminded himself of that fact over and over, a thousand times a day.

There was a sudden silence as the running shower in the bathroom stopped, a slight banging and flailing before Stiles flung the door open in a haze of steam, soaking wet with just a towel wrapped low around his waist. “Dude, I think I used all the hot water for the entire place!”

Scott didn’t even glance up or make any attempt to respond, keeping his eyes unfocused, looking for patterns in the stained, mold speckled ceiling. The bed bounced as Stiles lept on top of it, laughing and dripping down on his friend. Drops ran down pale skin, hair wild and spiked with honey brown eyes full of mischief. “C’mon, Scotty! I think that at least deserves a smile.”

“Please don’t.”

The human’s expression scrunched in concern, leaning closer to drip down Scott’s face with a worried frown. “You okay there? I told you drinking that much Mountain Dew was gonna rot a hole in your insides, Scott. This is why you should always listen to me. A glass of actual non-caffeinated plain old water won’t kill you. I’m going to have to start making you eat things like a normal person. It’s gonna be like my Dad all over again.”

Scott flinched, but Stiles saw. He always noticed everything, piecing the tiny details together, and he traced his fingertips down the side of the werewolf’s crooked jawline. It took everything Scott had not to shudder away as his friend dragged a thumb across his bottom lip.

His  _friend_.

“Make it stop.” The words were broken and needy, shame settling deep in his gut to even ask. He should be tougher than this, it was his responsibility to carry pain for others, but the craving had him hooked and Scott didn’t have the strength left to fight it.

Stiles laughed, a familiar sound that made it all somehow that much worse as something sly and wicked slid behind his eyes. The boy moved to straddle his friend who made no move to resist, damp skin soaking through Scott’s shirt as Stiles leaned down to kiss his neck. “You know I’d always give you what you ask.” He murmured into the curve of Scott’s neck, sucking the pulse through warm brown skin as the marks faded too fast to enjoy.

“Please.” The word was choked and Stiles laughed again, pressing his liar’s lips to the wolf’s in a proprietary kiss.  _Not_  Stiles. Not ever Stiles. Scott moaned into the other’s boy’s mouth, arching up against his wet frame as the pain raced from him in a bliss of agony, shuddering in relief as desire filled the empty spaces. The Nogitsune knew how to play his body, turning it against himself and wielding pleasure like a weapon as he stole the pain from Scott’s bones and wrung the wolf dry. The numbness that settled in his chest was a blessing. Stiles’s hips canted against him and his own answered the rhythm. It was sick to get off on the pull of pain and the way the Nogitsune rewarded him for his service, but the addiction ran deep and sometimes, god sometimes, the way the fox’s mouth would twist or the restless tapping of long fingers across his chest as they lay together afterwards would be so  _Stiles_  that he could almost make himself believe.

When Stiles’s…when the Nogitsune’s hand closed around his cock, the wolf groaned and surrendered to the touch. The pace was always designed to deny him, never giving quite what he needed until he begged for it. The monster with his best friend’s face loved it when he begged. He thrust into the other boy’s hand, bowing back against the bed as Stiles traced his thumb around the head, shiny and slick with precum.

“Such a good boy, Scotty. You know how much I like to make you feel good. That’s why you love me, isn’t it?”

“I…ah, I don’t love you.” The wolf said through grit teeth, eyes squeezed shut and hating himself for wanting more

“Of course you do.” The Nogitsune’s voice almost fond as he stroked his hand. “We both know you do. We love you too, Scott, why do you think we keep you? You’re more than just a meal, though that is such a wonderful bonus. You do this for him, your obedience keeps him safe.” The fox bent to kiss him, ripping a moan from Scott’s mouth. “And his cooperation keeps  _you_  safe. Such a matched pair of pretty martyrs.”

The snap of the tube’s cap seemed obscenely loud and Scott gasped at the cold slick touch of lube around his cock as Stiles cooed. “So pretty, Scotty. He gets so jealous.” The boy shifted, towel gone as he straddled the wolf and sank down, Scott thrusting up to meet him against his will. Stiles circled his hips with a poisonous smile, riding hard as Scott gripped his thighs. The wolf was always so much fun to wreck, resisting but easy to seduce when stealing the pain left him so needy. Scott could try to hide it, but his emotions were always worn on his sleeve, his heart exposed and so vocal in his desire. The Nogitsune loved turning that heroic smile into something filthy. He gripped himself, stroking in time with Scott’s frantic thrusts.

“Tell me what I want to hear.”

The words burned like bile, choking him, but Scott knew he would give in or be denied his release. The addition was too deep in his bones to fight and he surrendered with a sob. “I need you.” Brown eyes locked onto Stiles’s face, hoping the boy trapped inside knew who he was talking to. He gave the Nogitsune what it wanted but resisting in the only way he could. “I need  _you_.” Scott breathed, body hitching as he came. Stiles followed a minute later, spilling over the wolf’s chest and face.

“So pretty…” it echoed again, tired smile on Stiles’s face as the Nogitsune licked the cum from Scott’s lips. “Your turn for a shower.”

___

He had chosen this, it was the only was he could think of to keep everyone else safe. His ability to steal pain was supposed to serve as a bartering chip, promising a steady supply of agony without the Nogitsune having to hunt for it. It was a way to stall and prevent the fox from killing or causing chaos while his friends back home raced to find a cure. Scott had been so confident he could keep the spirit distracted long enough to protect people from its games and guard Stiles from the Oni who tried to hunt him down. There had to be a way to save his best friend without killing him. He had always been willing to sacrifice himself for this plan if it meant keeping Stiles safe, he just didn’t realize how deep the fox’s claws could go. The way it took the pain was more addicting than any opiate and it didn’t take long until Scott was hooked.

The weeks blurred together. Scott thought they would have stayed close to home, but the fox was too savvy to risk being exposed to the pack or the oni that hunted them. They’d left California, bouncing aimlessly across the southwest from town to town, a mockery of the roadtrip they always planned at the end of Senior year. Scott had wanted to see New York someday and Stiles just wanted to look for trouble outside of their small town. It was supposed to be a reward, a slice of normal kid stuff for surviving all the supernatural crap that kept trying to steal the human parts of their lives away. It was going to be one last hurrah, one final memorable summer before they left for college and everyone grew up and moved away. He kept a list of all the places they were going to visit together from the Grand Canyon to Disney World to the World’s Largest Cheeseburger, all the most important sites across the country 

Now, it was a hunting trip.

Scott would stalk the streets, eyes overbright and feverish as he looked for chaos. He usually ended up at the local hospital where misery was guaranteed, huddled in the emergency waiting room and stealing pain with careful fingertips. At least he could do some good with it and ease a little suffering as his body was wracked in agony, holding the pain inside until the Nogitsune would give him relief with Stiles’s smiling mouth.

Roscoe had lasted until New Mexico, sputtering to a slow and ignoble death outside of Albuquerque. The Nogitsune had just left the jeep behind, the clearest sign that Stiles was truly gone. They’d stolen cars as they hopped from city to city, Scott wasn’t sure if it was a skill the spirit knew or something his best friend had taught himself on the off chance they needed to hotwire a getaway vehicle. He wouldn’t have put it past Stiles to take the precaution.

Scott stepped outside of the motel, shirt immediately clinging to his chest in the humid heat. They kept heading south until they couldn’t go any further, holed up the last few days in an old, run down motel in New Orleans. For a wolf that already ran too hot, the temperature was almost unbearable and Scott panted slightly as he walked slowly down the streets. Their stolen moped was parked a few blocks over, a more convenient way to cut through the old winding streets of the city than a car and much less noticeable by the police. Stiles had laughed when he first brought it back, making fun of how nerdy they’d look on the tiny bike and Scott had almost felt like it was really his friend in the moment. Looking like a dork was a small price to pay for Stiles smiling like he meant it, genuine and human and full of sarcasm. God, Scott missed him.

Though Mardi Gras only came once a year, there was always some kind of celebration in the historic French Quarter. The buildings were old and beautiful, withstanding years of drunken revelers and the worst Mother Nature could throw at them. There was music on every corner, the upbeat tempos of zydeco and the Cajun crooning, jazz and blues spilling out into the streets even at ten o’clock in the morning. It could have been so perfect. It was a city that had seen more than its fair share of suffering, maybe that’s why Sti- the Nogitsune liked it so much. They’d been here a few days already, longer than any of their other stops. Pain was in high supply, even so many years after the hurricane had devastated most of this place. Drunken tourists and bar fights were abundant, the streets full of the homeless and the sick struggling to get by. New Orleans had a shiny veneer of manic glee painted over ingrained poverty and crime and a history of dark arts. It was supposed to be haunted by the dead who clung to the city, trapped in its boundaries. Maybe to an evil spirit, it felt a little bit like home.

The werewolf had learned subtlety over the weeks, stealing pain in fluttering fingertips and the brush of his body as he walked down the streets. Just a little, an easing of the strain those around them carried inside and holding it tight in his own aching frame. Scott smiled as he passed a crumpled dollar bill to a man hunched against the side of one of the buildings, hand lingering a moment longer than normal to pull the bone deep pain of hunger and illness from the homeless man’s skin. It was getting so he didn’t remember feeling anything else but pain, but the man’s slight sigh of relief made everything worth it. There were more his fingers had learned, necessary survival techniques though he still felt so terrible every time they dipped into a strange pocket and twitched away an unguarded wallet. It was easier this way, he tried to convince himself, if he didn’t take care of them, the Nogitsune would and his methods were far more brutal than pickpocketing. Stiles would have been proud that Scott picked up thievery skills; it was one step closer to his ultimate Ocean’s Eleven fantasy and Scott would never hear the end of how they were going to knock over a casino or make off with the Hope Diamond.

Tuxedos and slick high end criminal masterminds. That or James Bond, Stiles never could make up his mind on which side would be cooler.  _“Well run the world or we’ll save it, I haven’t really decided yet. Either or, as long as I get to do it with a kick ass gun in an expensive tailored tuxedo. I’ve got class, Scotty.”_

Scott closed his fingers around a cellphone, pulling it swiftly from the purse of an oblivious tourist and walking calmly down the street before anyone noticed it was missing. He knew he shouldn’t, but shaking hands were already dialing.

“Lydia?” He breathed the name, steps faltering as he all but reached desperately for the voice on the other end.

“Oh my god, Scott?! Where are you? Are you okay? Why haven’t you called?” She sounded just as frantic and the boy almost broke down in tears.

“I-I can’t tell you, Lyds. I’m okay, we’re both okay. I just…we need help. It’s getting bad, I can’t keep doing this.”

“Scott, you need to tell us where you are and we’ll find a way to help you. Please, you can’t do this alone, it’s stupid! He’s way too strong, there’s another way.”

“Have you found another way? Tell me you know a way to help him that isn’t killing him and I’ll tell you everything, Lydia.” Scott begged for an answer.

There was a brief pause and Scott closed his eyes in weary disappointment. “Deaton said something about a type of moss, letharia vulpina, that might slow it down but we don’t know…we’re still looking.” Her voice took on a quiet, pleading quality like she was trying to coax a skittish animal closer. “Scott, we’re not going to hurt him but you need to let us know where you are. We can help you, you know you can trust us. Please, don’t do this alone.”

“I’m sorry Lydia I can’t…I can’t. Tell my mom I love her.”

“Scott, wait! SCO-“ He disconnected the call and dropped the phone in the nearest garbage can without missing a beat. If they came, the oni wouldn’t be far behind and they’d kill Stiles to stop him. No matter how much chaos and blood trailed behind them, Scott would never let anything hurt his best friend even if it meant taking this all on alone. He could do it, somehow.

 _Letharia Vulpina._ The words stuck in his head and an unfamiliar flicker of hope flared in his chest. This was New Orleans, the center of weird voodoo magics and who knew what else. If anyone could find something obscure and herbal, this was the place. Maybe he really did have a chance?

____

The door chimed softly as Scott stepped into the dimly lit shop and he wrinkled his nose to keep from sneezing at the thick scent of herbs and incense. He hesitated, looking around and almost headed right back out the door. Voodoo wasn’t _actually_ a thing, was it? Crudely stitched dolls hung from strings by the counter and the walls were lined with dried herbs and jars of  _things_  that Scott didn’t want to look too closely at. Candles lay stacked by colors and books that promised real magic spells were lined up by the young, dark skinned woman by the register. It was kitschy and over the top, catering to the tourists in the French Quarter who looked for a little sinister New Orleans tradition before they went back to their suburban homes, but Scott didn’t have a better option. It wasn’t like there were actually Swamp Witches out in the bayou like a Disney movie.

Wait,  _were_  there actually Swamp Witches? Sometimes, there were things he just didn’t want to know.

“Welcome to Marie Laveau’s, let me know if I can help you!” The young woman said in the rhythmic tones of New Orleans, touched with French and the deep South.

Scott shoved his hands in his pockets feeling awkward. This was a bad idea at the end of weeks of bad ideas, but when there were no other options, even the bad ones started to look pretty damn good. “I, uh…yeah. I’m looking for this thing called Letharia Vulpina? It’s supposed to be some kind of herb.”

“Of course, you have very rare tastes, sir! Wolf lichen, I don’t get much call for it, it’s not native to this part of the world. It can be quite dangerous, they used to use it to poison wolves and foxes back in the day. I don’t have any on display, but I do in the back if you’d like to join me.” She smiled and gestured for him to follow her through an arched doorway to the back of the shop. Scott hunched his shoulders uncomfortably and followed.

“Are you sure tha-“ He stopped abruptly like he’d hit an invisible wall, reaching out to trace a finger along the wood lining the doorway.  “What?”

There was a soft click and Scott looked up, nose-to-business-end of a loaded crossbow. “Mountain ash.” The woman said, smile gone and a hard look in her dark brown eyes. “Now why don’t you tell me exactly what you are and what you want or I’ll see how you look with a bolt through the brain.”

“Please…” Scott raised his hands and spoke softly, trying to let his exhausted sincerity shine through. “I’m just trying to help my best friend. There’s something wrong with him and I was told this might actually help him. I’m not trying to cause any trouble, I swear!”

“And why would a poison help your friend?”

Scott hesitated before deciding honestly with a weapon wielding woman was the best policy. “Have you ever heard of a Nogitsune?”

The woman paused before lowering the crossbow with a shake of her head. “Boy, you’ve got more trouble than you have a right to. You’re sure about it, Nogitsune?”

“So you’ve actually heard of it? Who are you?”

She smiled, setting the crossbow on the counter and made a quick chalkmark across the doorway, beckoning him through. “Claire Argent, Vodoun priestess and-“

“ _Hunter_!” Scott finished for her. “Oh. My. God. Of course it would be a freaking Argent, I know Chris and his daughter Allison.”

Claire shrugged. “It’s a big family, I’m sorry but I don’t know those names though I’m not surprised you have experience with them _. Nous chasser pour maintenir l’équilibre_. We hunt to maintain the balance and you’ve brought an angry spirit into my city which will upset everything. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty clear. If you can help me, then we’ll leave. Please, I don’t know what else to do and I was told this might actually help in some way but I…please, it’s been so long and I-“ Scott ran his hands through his hair, trying not to panic. “I’m out of options. I’ll do anything, if this even has a chance at saving him, I have to take it.”

The woman watched him quietly before gesturing him back through the doorway. Scott eyed the chalk mark as he walked through, but the mountain ash barrier was broken and he followed the Argent back into the cramped halls of the shop. She led him down the stairs to the basement and Scott blinked in surprise.

It was remarkably clean and highly organized, more like a science lab than a place of ancient rituals. It reminded him of Deaton and the animal clinic more than anything and he looked over at Claire who shrugged with a smile. “There’s a lot of stereotypes about us, we’re not the toothless bayou crones raising up zombies and cackling while sticking needles in dolls. I have a Master’s Degree from Boston University, you know. What we do up there is for the tourist trade, Vodoun is a religion just like any other.” She said briskly, searching through small labelled glass jars until she found the one she wanted. She pulled the bright green moss free and started grinding it in a stone mortar, adding drops of liquid until it ran pale and sucked it into an empty syringe.

“What you’re deal with is a powerful evil spirit that disrupts the natural balance between this world and the next. Vodoun is all about maintaining that balance and keeping the doorways between worlds controlled. Your friend is torn between human life and the spirit world, but with help, you may be able to save him. You need to weaken the spirit’s hold on your friend, poison it and then anchor him back to the living.”

“Anchor him…? How am I supposed to anchor him?” Scott took the syringe carefully. “I don’t know how to bring him back from this. It’s not him anymore, I don’t even know if Stiles is still in there.”

Claire turned to a small alter covered with statues and melted candles, pouring a small amount of whiskey into a gold-etched bowl. “Then you have to fight to find him. We will help you, a spirit like a Nogitsune puts us all at risk. If you can subdue him, we can find a way.”

“Promise me you won’t kill him, I won’t lose him.”

She looked at the young man, fierce and loyal despite his obvious exhaustion and nodded. “Hold on to that faith, you’re going to need it.”

___

Scott parked the moped to a squeaky stop outside of their motel, switching off the puttering motor and trying to control the anxious buzzing through his nerves. This was going to work, it had to. Claire had told him that the Argents would be in position as soon as he was able to poison the Nogitsune and that they could find a way to save him. Scott had to trust, he had to believe they could save him. He licked his lips and opened the door.

“Hey Stiles, I-“

His friend grinned at him, arms stained red and dripping, his face splattered with blood. “Hey there, Scotty. I got hungry, I hope you don’t mind that I started without you.”

“What the hell?! We had a deal! You don’t hurt anybody and I bring you as much pain and suffering as you want. You can’t do this!”

The fox was on him in a second, bloodstained hand closing around Scott’s throat as he twisted Stiles’s face into a feral smile. “I can do anything I want to, little wolf, that’s our arrangement. You took too long so I went hunting.” Fingers traced bloody smears down the dark skin of Scott’s jaw as the Nogitsune leaned in to kiss him. “I take what I want and you help me to keep him alive, unless you want to renegotiate the terms of this agreement?”

Scott groaned beneath cruel hands, the fox using Stiles against him. Pain flooded out of him and he stopped fighting, all other thoughts ripped away as the craving twisted hard in his gut. He didn’t resist as Stiles stripped him bare and painted his skin with red. He moaned as he was pressed face down into torn and bloody sheets, the fox’s weight heavy on his back. He surrendered to the punishing pleasure the Nogitsune forced through him, mind a whirl of need as Stiles thrust hard into him until he was begging. Scott chased the feeling like a strung out addict, kissing his best friend desperately, his hips setting a bruising pace. Stiles laughed at his anguished need, waiting until he came to tear out the last of Scott’s stolen pain and set the wolf screaming into the pillows.

Afterwards, empty and numb with Stiles curled sleepily around him, Scott managed to fumble for the syringe and inject it before his friend could open his eyes. He picked up the motel’s landline, dialing with shaking fingers.

“It’s done. Now save him.”

___

They managed to get Stiles back to the shop’s basement and restrained before the fox woke, taunting them for their efforts as Claire chanted and prayed over his prone body. Scott watched quietly, trying to keep the shattered pieces of his heart together.

“I never thought you’d turn on me like this, buddy.”

“You’re not Stiles.” Scott murmured, but it didn’t stop the way his chest tightened at the look of betrayal on his best friend’s face. “I’m sorry…dude, I’m so sorry but we’re gonna save you. I promise, just hold on a little longer.”

Stiles laughed, arching his body up against the restraints. “I’m going to kill everyone you love, Scotty boy. I’m going to rip out your mom’s throat and slice open that pretty little Argent girl while you watch. I won’t kill you though, I want you to enjoy everything minute. Death is a gift, Scott, and you don’t deserve it.”

The wolf clenched his jaw, muscles twitching as he bore the brunt of Stiles’s rage. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”

“Scott,” Claire put a hand on the boy’s arm and he jumped, forgetting all about the priestess and her family. “It’s time. To separate the spirit from the body, you need to change him.”

“Change?”

“Bite him. It’s the only way to save him.”

“What?!” Scott whirled on her. “You never said anything about biting him! I’m not going to make him a werewolf, he’s never asked me to be one. I won’t take that choice away from him or risk it not working. What if it doesn’t take and he dies, it’s not worth it! I don’t even know how, what if I bite something wrong and he gets hurt?”

Claire tightened here hold on Scott’s arm, forcing him to look at her. “It’s the only way to drive the spirit out. You have to make the body uninhabitable and trust that it will heal him. You have to believe, Scott, it’s the only way you’re going to help your friend.”

He swallowed hard, glancing over at Stiles who laughed again, vicious and mocking, trying to find his friend behind those amber eyes. “You’re sure this will work?”

“No. But we have to try.”

Scott pulled away, reaching out to stroke his fingers through his best friend’s bangs. “I’m sorry, man. I swear I’ll help you through this. Just…I just need you back so much and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

“He never will.” The fox snarled. “He’ll hate you forever for stealing his humanity and making him a monster. He doesn’t want this, Scott!” His body fought against the restraints before going still, eyes momentarily flickering closed as he gasped, blinking in confusion. “Scott?”

“Stiles?!” The boy’s voice cracked, edged in fear and wary hope. “Look at me, Stiles. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Don’t…please.” Stiles’s voice was rough like he hadn’t used it in ages and was just relearning how to control his mouth again. “Just let me die, Scott. I don’t want to be a wolf, I don’t want this.”

“You can’t ask me that!” Scott all but wailed, burying his face into his best friend’s side. “I need you, I can’t do this without you, Stiles. Please don’t make me let go. I can’t…I’d give up everything as long as you were okay.”

“Trust me, Scott. You’re going to be okay. Can I…can you just?” Stiles reached for him to wipe the tears from his face, struggling against the restraints. Scott was quick to release him, ignoring Claire’s warning as he wrapped his arms around his best friend. After fighting so long to save him, Stiles was the one who wanted to let go and the wolf knew that as much as he would do anything his friend asked him, he couldn’t do this.

“I love you, I won’t let you go.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles murmured in his ear, hand tracing down Scott’s back in soothing circles. “If you can’t let go, then I will.” A hand with too much strength to be human closed around his throat as Sti… _not_ Stiles smiled cruelly at him, capturing his mouth in a violating kiss before squeezing hard enough to crush his throat. Scott choked, clawing at the Nogitsune’s hand trying to free himself before the grip suddenly disappeared and the fox rocked back, crossbow bolt buried deep into his shoulder.

“Do it now!” Claire yelled, reloading the bow as the Nogitsune howled its rage. Unable to breathe and gasping for air, Scott’s mouth filled with fangs and he bit deeply into Stiles’s shoulder.  _I’m sorry. I’m sorry!_

Stiles screamed, seizing against the remaining restraints as his eyes rolled back. Black veins crawled across pale skin as he choked, gagging and retching. He coughed hard, buzzing black fly escaping from his lips as he fought.

“Is he okay? What’s happening to him!?” Scott didn’t notice the hunter catch the fly from mid-air, imprisoning it in a small jar carved from bone, all of his attention on Stiles.

“Stiles! Please, Stiles! Look at me, come on, buddy. Tell me you’re okay, Stiles, I need you to be okay.”

 “…Scott?” The voice was broken and trembling, and the wolf’s knees almost gave way as he was so sure that this time it was finally genuine.

“I’m here, I’m right here…we’re okay.” Scott pressed his forehead to his best friend’s, tears streaking down his face. “We’re gonna be okay now, I promise.”

___

Scott slung his bag over his back and gave one last look around the motel room to see if there was anything they left behind. Opening the door was like stepping into a blast furnace and the New Orleans humidity hit him full force as he crossed the parking lot towards the moped and the figure perched on its seat.

“You ready?”

“I’ve only been sitting here melting for twenty minutes, dude. You know how delicate I am, all this pale skin is going to crispy fry right off my back and it’s going to be your fault.”

Scott grinned, tipping Stiles’s head back to kiss him hard enough to make his eyes flash gold. “Are you okay?”

“Besides the maiming and the killing and the sudden urge to mark every fire hydrant we come across? Never better.”

“Stiles-“

“Stop.” Stiles slid his hand behind Scott’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. “No, I’m not.” He admitted, the sarcastic mask slipping to reveal the terror beneath as the two were never able to keep secrets from each other. “I don’t even know where to start with this, dude. It’s too much, I remember everything and…I think it’s going to take some time to sort it all out.”

“Then we’ll take some time. Stiles, we’re in his together. We don’t have to go back yet, we can… I dunno, we can keep heading east until things make sense again. As long as you don’t leave me behind.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, shoving Scott in the shoulder. “Like I could ever get rid of you, dumbass. You really think we are going to make it all the way across country on this rinky thing? Why the hell did you let me pick this, it should have been a sign to give up on me entirely. Who the hell even uses a mop-“

Scott captured his mouth, swallowing Stiles’s complaints and promising all the things he couldn’t find the words for. Stiles’s body relaxed slightly, the first step on a long road ahead. It would be rough going for a long time, but at least they were together.

“Scott?”

“Hm?”

“If we’re going East, we’re still stealing the Hope diamond. I’m not passing up this chance, get your alpha ass on the seat, bro. Do you have any idea where I can get a tux?”

_Yeah, they were going to be okay._


End file.
